When I remembered to look more carefully, I could see
That all these patterns returning around me that I gave
The same names were never the same, not even the names.
Body studied the outer wall where the lava flow had slowed,
Now the curve the highway nestled, river opposite,
While daughter and friends discussed their teeth
On the way to school. "I've lost nine." "I've lost two."
"I have twenty-three right now and a hole. That's
Twenty-four." "I have twenty-eight, all told." "Liar."
Tooth counts too slippery to count on made the case.
Cows and ostriches threw shadows in the valley shallows.
A little similarity was a dangerous thing. These were
All dangerous things. What was changing, then, if
Everything was change? Nothing changed.
What was was not what it was, not ever. What was it?
In the evenings, returning home, the black wall
Sometimes glowed to let me know it moved still. Liar.
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